#weyfaren

“ that’s  just  the  way  his  eyes  look , ”          she  says ,  shrugging .     she  feels  no  need  to  defend  eadwulf  from  this  other  boy ,  even  though  she  wants  @weyfaren​  to  like  her  just  so  so  much .          “ he  doesn’t  mean  it ,  most  of  the  time .     when  he  means  it ,  there’s  some  more  growling  involved .     you  can  tell . ”          her  eyes  scan  the  sand  again ,  bending  down  to  pick  up  a  piece  of  sea  glass ,  dark  eyes  studying  the  new  material  for  a  long  moment .

"then don't. i'm here now."

all it takes is a few words to annoy cassandra  --  but ,  of course ,  that is percival’s goal .  so she shifts her weight on the worktable ,  holding a small hand out towards @weyfaren​ .  “ alright ,  then , ”  she says primly .  “ pay up ,  percival . ”  it’s not a hard bluff to call ,  really  --  what use do the de rolos have for money in their pockets ?  they have everything they’d need or want ,  and on the rare occasions that they go to town ,  no one charges them directly .  and maybe ,  just maybe ,  she’s more than ready to start an argument today .

visits to her parents are brief and awkward ,  to say the least .  but she still feels compelled to go , to make an appointment , to sit in a room with them . it also serves as a reminder that leaving was a good choice on her part — that she doesn’t fit here . and the longer that she’s gone , the less she feels like the lack of fit is a personal failing . but she has a mission today — something that , in any other family , wouldn’t set her pulse racing and tighten her airway . but she’s committed to this now , and stops before her father , keeping her tenseness off of her face as best she can . “ i have . . . i have something for you , ” she says , briefly meeting his eyes before looking away to dig through her bag . she doesn’t stop talking as she does , half fact and half nervous rambling . “ vinlia and i . . . we were in vasselheim . and i — well — “ she pulls something out of her bag , triumphant , a vial of blood in her grasp . she swallows , knowing that she doesn’t need to say what it is . @weyfaren won’t turn this down , right ?

of   course   he   does.         even   if   they   do   not   speak   of   it   so   openly,   they   know   of   the   similarities   in   their   bones      —      in   the   pieces   of   the   two   of   them   that   call   to   the   pieces   in   the   other.      lancelot   has   never   had   such   a   friend      —      not   ever.      @weyfaren​​   is   different   from   others   in   more   ways   than   one.      merlin   is   just   one   of   a   thousand   things   lancelot   never   expects   to   come   from   finally   making   it   to   camelot.            “      i   think   that   my   differences   hardly   compare   with   yours,      ”            lancelot   replies   with   a   soft,   slightly-sad   smile.      he   looks   down   at   his   hands.            “      but   .   .   .      that   is   kind   of   you   to   say,   merlin.      ”

the   gentle   touch   and   care,   though   insistent   and   stubborn,   is   appreciated.         lancelot   has   been   tending   to   his   own   wounds      —      his   own   needs   entirely      —      since   childhood.      after   he   loses   his   mother   and   stepfather      —      after   his   whole   life   as   he   knows   it   is   torn   asunder      —      he   is   rather   fully   left   on   his   own.      @weyfaren​​   seems   to   resist   that   notion,   in   every   way   that   he   treats   lancelot   in   the   wake   of   their   newfound   friendship.            “      merlin      —      thank   you,   but   it’s   just   a   scratch,      ”            he   quietly   replies,   though   he   does   not   resist   merlin’s   attentions.            “      i   could   dress   it   myself   .   .   .      i’m   sure   you   have   more   important   things   to   tend   to.      ”